A Picture's Worth a Thousand Words
by L James
Summary: Christmas Fluff. RHr. A fight and a reconciliation.


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A/N: Hey it's 2 AM and I'm ready to roll! Bear with me, I haven't written fan fiction in a while so it may be different than you're used to from me……I got this on a whim just now, since my friend is sleeping over and she wants me to write! I got her hooked on fan fiction…..I'm so happy! Ok, ok, enough about my life, on to the story!!

It's a little something I cooked up for Christmas…Hope you all enjoy super-duper fluff! The beginning is a little slow, but please finish it it's good! (*promise*) : )

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

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A Picture's Worth a Thousand Words

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It was Christmas Eve. Hermione Granger sat alone at the window in her dormitory, aimlessly staring out onto the grounds. The snow had fallen cold and crisp days before, leaving the castle wrapped in a blanket of white. Icicles spiked the rooftops, and the trees were more beautiful than in any other season, the ice creating intricate patterns of crystals on their branches. The entire school was positively ecstatic about the holidays; the war had torn many a family apart. Now was the chance (and maybe only one they would get) to see their whole families together again. As the fighting wasn't in full swing, not many lives were lost in battles or other things of the sort. Most of the students of Hogwarts School traveled home this year, but quite a few stayed also. Some parents believed that it was safer. Others didn't want to face the fact that they were in a war, and that they should see their families as often as they can. Denial worked well with some people, especially one Cornelius Fudge, who was still denying that Voldemort had even risen at all.

An owl fluttering outside the window startled Hermione out of her trance. Shaking her head in disgust with herself for drifting off, she opened the window quietly. Emitting a blast of cold winter wind, the fluttering animal bustled into the dorm with a flash of feathers and a hoot of displeasure. Locking the window closed, she found Pidgewidgeon twittering around the ceiling. "Come on, Pig," she said quite tonelessly, "Give me my letter."

Almost on command, Pig stopped flitting around and came to rest right atop Hermione's head of bushy hair. She scowled slightly. "Gee, Pig, it's nice to know you consider my hair as comfortable as a bird's nest," she mumbled.

He hooted faintly in response, as Hermione untied the wrapped parchment from his leg rather roughly. She let him hover noisily by the door as she looked at the letter. It was addressed to her, Hermione, in that same messy scrawl that she had come to know so well. It was something that caused relief to course though her veins, but something else too. Something like anger.

It had been exactly one month, two weeks, and four days since she last had a civilized conversation with Ron Weasley. They had been fighting over her boyfriend, Viktor Krum, for so long, when it finally became so awful that she snapped. Ron had been going on about how he was a Bulgarian prat and that he didn't even bother to show up for a visit on Christmas. She screamed at him right in front of the whole common room, accusing him of patronizing and belittling Viktor when all he'd done was shown how much he cared for her. Ron had shot right back, saying that she was blind not to see that all he was in it for was the publicity. "Viktor Krum Dating Harry Potter's Best Friend!" was the headlines that he wanted to see in _Witch Weekly_. Going out on a limb she didn't know she dared to climb, Hermione exploded and said so many awful things at that moment that she would regret for the rest of her life. She only had vague memories of her tirade.

"You HAVE never and WILL never understand me!"

"You are the WORST friend I could ever have!"

"I HATE YOU!!!"

The words rang in her ears even now weeks later. Ron had been donned speechless, as well as Hermione herself. But even still, he deserved a talking-to. When she thought back about it, the anger that coursed through her was undeniable. She had to force down all her hostile thoughts of what she would like to do to Ron Weasley with just the wave of her wand. Ooh, he made her so angry! But that was Ron: he was the only person that she knew that could bicker back and forth with her, provoke her, completely infuriate her……but make her feel so loved. 

That's right, the one and only Ron Weasley, hot-tempered redhead extraordinaire, was the only boy in the universe that could successfully turn Hermione Granger into a puddle of goo. This was a recent development, over the summer perhaps, that he could just glance at her for a second and make her go weak at the knees. Those eyes…she'd grown to know them over the five years of their friendship. But every time she looked into them, they were different. Sometimes flecked with green, sometimes with silver, sometimes with gold. It was interesting that she was the only one to notice these kinds of things, that Ron's eyes sometimes had spots of green in them, and also that she cared. She was oddly interested in what color his eyes were.

Oh boy.

She glanced back down at her letter. Actually, it wasn't even a letter. It was a note that contained one line.

_Your present is under the tree in the common room._

_-Ron_

That came as a bit of a shock. They were fighting, and he got her a present? She shook her head in disbelief. Ron had never………but they had never been fighting during the holidays, either. Suddenly, she felt a pang of guilt. He had gotten her something, but she didn't even bother to consider a gift for him. She had been so furious, buying Ron a present didn't even remotely cross her mind.

Overcome by guilt and curiosity, she dropped the note onto her bed and headed down to the common room. It was quite late on Christmas Eve, the whole house had gone to bed hours ago. Silently, Hermione crept down the spiral staircase, her slippers making only a soft padding noise. In moments, she reached the bottom and peeked around the corner.

She had never seen the common room look more beautiful than it did that night. The fire had died down to a soft golden blaze, the flames casting dark shadows all along the walls. The tree, decorated with zillions of gold ornaments, glittered merrily near the hearth. Blankets emblazoned with the Gryffindor crest were rumpled up on the couches, making the room more homey than it had ever looked before: warm and _used. _There were no books in sight, except for her usual stack of "light reading" hidden in a deserted corner. A small giggle escaped her lips. The books had been covered up by Ron's old dress robes in a rant of his a while back. Apparently, she needed to "get out more", "loosen up", and "get a life _outside_ the library". Hermione had given in, letting Ron drape his horrible old robes over the pile. 

She closed her mouth abruptly, remembering that she was supposed to be mad at him.

Checking that the coast was clear, she tiptoed across the bare hardwood floor to the tree. Crouching down beside it, she peeked underneath, searching for her name. After a few moments, Hermione finally found a package wrapped in plain brown paper, stuffed in at the back of the tree. It said "To Hermione," but had no name on who it was from. Guessing this was the gift, she picked it up and examined it closely. It was flat, rectangular, and about the size of her hand. It was by no means light, and she was curious as to what it could be. After carefully untying the yarn wrapped around it, the postage paper fell away and Hermione was rendered speechless.

It was a picture. A picture of her and Ron, taken during the summer of their third year. It was when she had been staying at the Leaky Cauldron, and they had gone on a little shopping excursion before Harry had unexpectedly arrived. They were sitting on a bench outside Flourish and Blotts, when a street vendor had come up and asked if he could take their picture. Of course, Hermione said yes excitedly, but Ron looked a little downtrodden about the whole thing. Immediately understanding why, she had offered to pay for it. His ears were flaming out of embarrassment, but he agreed nevertheless.

Ron had his arm draped lazily around the back of the bench, and he was holding Scabbers, along with a bag of Every Flavor Beans, in his lap. Hermione was sitting in the crook of his arm, a stack of books sitting next to her. Ron was smirking down at her in mock-astonishment, obviously teasing about their horrible height difference. Hermione's head was tossed back in laughter, thinking Ron's gangly 6'0 frame and her petite 5'2 stature was just as funny. The wind was restless on that day, which had their hair whipping wildly around them. The photographer had used special paper, in which the edges of the picture flashed a rainbow of different colors. She remembered she'd let Ron keep it, since the year before she hadn't gotten Ron a birthday present. She was a little……_petrified_ at the time.

Ron had put in a pewter frame, which was what made it so heavy. Staring down at it, Hermione couldn't think of any other gift that was as beautiful as this. She truly had forgotten all about it in the event of Harry's arrival that summer and the rest of the school happenings. It was now that she remembered what good friends they used to be. Suddenly, she felt her breath catch, and she brought a hand to her mouth to muffle a sob. Squeezing her eyes shut tightly, Hermione let a tear trickle down her cheek. 

"Are you ok?"

A cold voice drifted across the empty room from a dark corner. She couldn't see who it was, but she knew the sound of him anywhere. She had to struggle to get out comprehensible words.

"Oh Ron, Ron p-please come out."

She heard a mumbled "_Lumos_" from over by the tables, and a light flickered on revealing the face of none other than Ron Weasley. Even with his stone expression, she couldn't help but feel a few degrees warmer knowing he was in the room. She felt the chill of being alone abruptly leave her.

They stared at each other for a good minute, Ron crouched up on a stool in the corner, and Hermione standing numbly in the middle of the common room, the absent tear strain on her cheek. She was looking him over, with his too-small pinstriped pajamas and his maroon Weasley sweater. His red hair was tousled up, and his blue eyes were focused on her in an intuitive glare. He was just so _him_, looking at her like that, that she couldn't help but feel that stinging behind her eyes again. Her face crumpled, and she took in a big, watery breath.

She collapsed on the couch, sobs wracking her whole body. These past weeks of no Ron in her life hurt her more than she ever thought they had. She didn't even realize it, but she missed him so much that something as little as a picture of them together sent her off into hysterics. He was what gave her a life, a life not just of books and libraries, but of laughter and fun. Without him these past weeks, she had sat at the table alone burying herself in her work, since she had no one to draw her away from it. 

Becoming disgusted with herself, Hermione forced her sobs away, and wiped at her eyes fiercely. She concentrated hard on the fire, which had now died to only glowing embers. Hermione focused on the little red specks in the hearth and began poking them with the iron fire stick.

"Why did you give me that picture?" she mumbled softly, more to herself than to Ron. It really still surprised her that he would give her something for Christmas when they were in the middle of a stagnant silence. It wasn't something the immature, eleven year old Ron would do. But then again, he wasn't eleven years old anymore. She poked the ashes with the end of the stick. _Maybe he's becoming more mature,_ she thought.

Hermione suddenly felt his presence behind her, and she whirled around and stood up suddenly. He was no more than two feet away, just standing with another unreadable expression on his face. He seemed to be thinking of something, but pushed it away as his face turned red and he stared at the floor. She, too, noticed the awkward silence and stared at her slipper-clad feet. 

"Erm….are you ok?" he asked again quietly, not straying his gaze from the wooden floor. "Because, if you don't want your present, I can take it back…"

"No! I mean, no Ron," she interrupted him abruptly, wiping at her eyes more. "I love my present. It's just…I-I thought we were in a fight."

He sighed resignedly, and flopped backwards onto the couch. He sat himself forward, and put his face in his hands. "We are," he mumbled almost inaudibly from behind them, "But…I…I wanted…I wanted to…"

"Apologize." She smiled at his embarrassment. It was like him to get up the courage to do something, do it, and then become flustered afterwards. She could remember a certain Fleur Delacour last year…

But to her shock, Ron jumped up fiercely from the couch, his face ablaze with anger. "Cripes, Hermione! Isn't this how it started last time?!?" He fumed, his arms flailing wildly around in rage. "You telling me what to do and what NOT to do?!?!"

She was so shell shocked by his sudden outburst, she swayed on the spot. Her astonishment was replaced by anger momentarily, however. "Shut UP!" she hissed, "People are going to hear us!" she looked around the room in panic. Not spotting anyone, she gave up with a huff and looked back up at him with her hands on her hips. "Anyway, I was just trying to HELP you," she spat, "You were obviously trying to say something, I was only being polite!!!"

He stood there blankly with a mixed expression on his face. It looked like embarrassment, defeat and rage a la mode. "Well, be polite somewhere else." He said coldly. "This is hard enough for me as it is." Silently, Ron held out his hand. "Give me the picture and I'll leave you alone. Sorry I even gave it to you." The last sentence was barely audible. 

Her heart beat wildly against her ribcage as she saw Ron with his hand out, his eyes boring into hers. _Those eyes_, she thought again. They had the flecks of gold in them this time, probably from the reflecting ornaments from the tree. She knew he wasn't truly mad at her when the gold was apparent. It meant that Ron was only trying to be tough as nails when he was really breaking up on the inside. There was only one other time in her life when she saw him like this. It was that night back in June, when Harry had just gotten out of the maze. He was absolutely furious at Dumbledore for not letting them see him right away, and he dragged her up to the infirmary in a fit. She stood in the hall outside for some time, watching him brood and cuss and kick the wall. She felt so bad for him, knowing that he was only doing this so he wouldn't take out his anger on her. For some reason , it felt like a very strange form of flattery.

It was when they walked in and saw Harry lying on the bed that his eyes flashed from red to white to gold. While Hermione had begun to cry quietly, Ron had just stood in shock with _that_ look in his eyes. For a moment she'd pondered if Ron would ever just give up and cry.

She snapped back to reality when she realized where she was. Her small arms were wrapped around the picture tightly, protecting it like it was her own child. "No," she whispered, glaring right back into his blue (and gold) eyes. "If you think that I absolutely, positively, completely and utterly despise this picture, and you, and…our friendship…" She gestured to the air between them, "No, then," her voice cracked as she looked up at him_. Darn it. _"You can't have it back," she whispered again , her head curling into her chest and her breath hitching.

Although she couldn't see him, she could feel his eyes piercing the top of her head. It seemed like an eternity that she stood there, crying softly, with Ron's gaze boring into her skull. _This is the worst Christmas I've ever had so far…_she thought rashly. He didn't even seem to care about her current condition.

After several minutes, she thought she heard a soft sigh come from him. She ignored it, however, until he spoke to her.

"You know I can't stand it when girls cry."

This small comment made her look up sharply at him, seeing that he was still looking at her intently. Suddenly remembering at how terribly awful she must look, she frantically smoothed out her bushy hair and nervously blotted her eyes with her sleeve. "I'm sorry," she sniffled, "I'm just having a very…,"she sighed in defeat as she dropped her hands from her face, "I'm having a very emotional night."

She was now ironing out the wrinkles in her nightdress when Ron's large hand caught her tiny wrist. She stopped immediately to look up at him, seeing that he once again was examining the maroon oriental carpet. "Don't," he said to the floor as she noticed a blush creeping up his neck, "Don't apologize to me when I'm supposed to be apologizing to you." 

The power of this comment was so strong that if Ron hadn't been holding onto her wrist she was sure she would have toppled right over. Ron…apologize to her? Willingly? She had only guessed before that that was what he had wanted to do. Never in her life did she think that he would gather up the courage to do something so unlike him. When he let go of her wrist, Hermione slowly set the picture down on the coffee table and curled her arms protectively around herself. "Go on," she said to him quietly as they stood stock still. 

She watched as the angry blotches of white and red receded from his face. It now looked as though he was so tired of this charade he was going to burst. He turned around silently to face the glimmering tree. "I wanted to meet you down here tonight so I could apologize." He said quietly as he stared at the large star close to the ceiling. Hermione was fighting down the urge to start sobbing again, his tone of voice was so sincere. But, knowing this would only make him more uncomfortable, she restrained herself. "This fight was all my fault, and it's even worse that I can't even manage to apologize without starting another row." A small smile that Hermione couldn't see but could hear in his voice began to creep up. He began to pick at a piece of pine needle that had fallen from the tree. He ambled slowly around the hearth, taking in all it's beauty. "I was looking through a photo album Mum sent with me to school this year, and I saw that picture. You have no idea, but…"

He turned around to face her, and she noticed right away that the gold was no longer apparent in his eyes. They had turned to his gorgeous shade of bluish-silver, a look he reserved for when he was looking at Harry's Firebolt, or even when he was examining a brand new pack of Sugar Quills. Hermione never imagined that he could ever give that look to another human being. One of pure adoration, admiration…

No.

He made his way over, and had gotten dangerously close. If someone had caught _her, _a prefect mind you, in this position, at night, on Christmas Eve, in her pajamas, with a certain Ron Weasley…she was up a pretty deep creek. 

He was towering over her now, his eyes searching everything from her short, bushy hair to her small nose and her big, brown eyes. She felt somewhat violated, like he was looking straight into her brain and reading her thoughts. But her _thoughts _were interrupted when he roughly took her wrist again. He was looking at her so intently that she thought she would burst from fuzziness.

"Damn," he breathed as he shook his head in disbelief, "I really missed you."

Hermione didn't know whether it was the glittering of the Christmas tree, her relief to be talking to Ron again, or just the way that Ron was looking at her that made her burst out into loud, heaving sobs. She flung herself at Ron, finally doing the thing that she had wanted to do since the start of the conversation. Instead of freezing up like he did in third year when Hermione did the same thing, he slowly wrapped his long arms around her wracking frame. She buried her face in his shoulder, catching the unmistakable smell of Ron----spices and sugar, the familiar smell of Christmas cookies. She giggled a bit through her tears. _Someone was raiding their baked goods from home today._

They were hugging for some time, when Hermione pulled back suddenly. "Oh no, I've gotten your sweater all wet." she sniffed, trying to absorb some of the water off his clothes with a tissue from her pocket. 

He chuckled. "Hermione, why didn't you just use that in the first place?"

She looked up at him with a blank expression. After a mere two seconds, it dawned on her. "Oh! Oh, I don't know. I was a little……um……distracted." she mumbled. 

There was an awkward silence. They still had their arms around one another, and suddenly realizing the position they were in, Ron and Hermione simultaneously jumped apart.

"Um, Hermione?" Ron asked nervously after a few seconds had passed. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Uh, sure, what?" she asked cheerily as they edged towards the staircase, the picture clasped in her hand.

He turned the familiar shade of red and stopped quite abruptly at the edge of the stone. "Um…well…are you still with Viktor?" he inquired.

Hermione didn't exactly know how to respond. She and Viktor weren't ever really _together_, per se, they just sort of _were_ because everyone _thought_ they were. It was a little odd having a conversation about Viktor with Ron not including yelling and screaming. 

But it was certainly interesting. Ron was standing perfectly still, almost afraid to move from his position directly across from Hermione. It was funny to watch him like this, afraid he'd mess up and get into another row again with her. Her heart went out to him, as he was so considerate and kind when he wanted to be. He was her best friend, and so much more than that.

_Whoa, Whoa, Whoa. WHAT did you just say??_

Hermione's subconscious popped into the back of her head.

**_I said Ron is my best friend. Is there a problem with that??_**

No, it's just you said he was more than that.

**So?!?!**

Well, you just admitted to yourself that you liked Ron.

**WHAT?!?!?!**

You did. You said he was more than that. Plus, you've been thinking about him constantly all through you're little argument.

**It was not a 'little argument.' It was a mutual disagreement.**

Riiiiiight.

**Shut up, you. Wait, what am I saying?!? I'm becoming schizophrenic!!!**

Listen. Listen to yourself._ You're smart, think about it._

*

And suddenly it was all clear. Why Ron hated Viktor so much. Why she never like Fleur Delacour. Why Harry would smirk knowingly at them when they'd banter and argue with each other. Why she always thought of him at random times during the day. _Why he missed me so much,_ she thought in disbelief. It felt like someone opened a door and let all this extra light in, illuminating every dark corner and turning everything a brilliant shade of white. 

Hermione stood absolutely astonished for more than a minute, her eyes glassy as she stared beyond Ron's shoulder in a daze. She didn't notice his scared face. "Uh, Hermione…you ok there?"

She was back in the room as soon as her mind had left it. He was standing in front of her again, holding onto her frail wrist. _He's too close_, she thought. _I won't be able to do it._ "Oh, Ron, um…I'm fine."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay. Good."

She sighed identically. "Yeah."

"Uh, Hermione?" he asked again, this time making sure she was looking at him. "You, um, never answered my question."

The cogs of Hermione's brain were grinding away when she got an idea. "Do you _want _an answer to my question?" she asked, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Uh, yeah…" he answered like it was the easiest thing in the world. "That's why I asked."

"Well," she drawled, "I have an answer for you." She was slowly moving closer to Ron, who was obviously getting nervous. 

"Erm…uh…O-Ok" He stuttered as she took his hands in hers. She restrained a giggle when she felt that his palms were sweaty.

Hermione gathered up all the courage she could muster, and set her brilliant plan to work. She got up on her tip-toes, and wound her arms around Ron's neck. She put her face close to his, so she could whisper in his ear. "Did you really miss me as much as you said you did?" she asked in a much lower voice than her normal one. 

Inside, she was dying of laughter. 

Ron made an audible gulp, and scratched out, "Yes."

This was exactly what she was expecting. _Thank goodness_. She cracked the biggest smile since before she and Ron were fighting, and drew back a little so she could look at his face. "Well, then," she said cheerfully, "I guess the answer is no."

At this point, Ron was too absolutely terrified to look relieved. Hermione finally stopped smiling, and did the thing that Ron had been silently praying for all night.

She snogged him senseless, right under the mistletoe tacked above the staircase.

And as Hermione let Ron wind his arms around her and deepen the kiss, she had a random thought.

_I'll have to have Christmas Cookies more often._

*

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A/N: YAAAAYYYYYY! This was so fun to write, you have no idea! At first, I wasn't going to have Ron and Hermione kiss, but I decided I would since I wasn't planning a sequel to this. It's just a little something for Christmas that was running around in my head for a while. Hope you liked it!

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.::Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa!!!!::.

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